Shattered
by SkyewardSmoakingQueens
Summary: Steeling herself, she took a step into the room, making sure that she remained slightly behind the guard as per the safety and security rules. "I've come to ask you why?" The word was part demand, part gasp and part sob. Jemma needs answers.


Hey! SmoakingQueen2 here! Welcome to my first AoS story, for now it's a one-shot but there might be a second part depending on what the muse says. After the season finale of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I HAD to write this story! XD And you can blame SmoakingQueen1 for getting me hooked on AoS. XD

Big thanks to my beta, SmoakingQueen1! You're awesome! ;-D And I do love how we drag each other into new fandoms! XD

Disclaimer: REALLY wish that I owned Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers and Marvel in general but I don't. Le sigh… I'm not making any profit off of this story.

~AoS~

**Shattered**

_Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding  
>Fall into your sunlight<br>The future's open wide, beyond believing  
>To know why, hope dies<br>Losing what was found, a world so hollow  
>Suspended in a compromise<br>The silence of the sound, is soon to follow  
>Somehow, sundown<em>

Jemma kept her hands clasped in front of herself, fighting the urge to fidget as the guard buzzed the door open and she followed him through. Coulson had tried to dissuade her from coming here and doing this, but hadn't forbidden her and had even admitted that he understood her need to do this. May had simply pressed her lips into a thin line and stalked off. Skye had kept her eyes on her computer screen, muttering, "Better you than me," _still_ unable to look _any_ of them in the eye when _he_ was brought up; Jemma knew her friend was nowhere _near_ being over him. Trip had asked if she wanted him to come with her but she'd declined, this was something she needed to do on her own.

They finally stood before his cell, and another loud buzz alerted them that the door was unlocked; the guard pulled it open, moving to stand protectively in front of Jemma just inside.

There he sat. Grant Ward. Posture negligent on a cot in the tiny cell, elbows propped on his knees with his finger loosely laced between them. His eyes locked on the other side of the small space, not even glancing over at the now open door.

"Come to ask if I've figured out who I am, again, Coulson?"

Heart pounding, Jemma took a deep breath. "No."

His head snapped toward her at the sound of her voice, shock flaring over his features, chased, briefly, by what _might_ have been guilt, but it was gone so quickly that Jemma doubted it was ever there, until finally a blank mask slid into place.

Steeling herself, she took a step into the room, making sure that she remained slightly behind the guard as per the safety and security rules. "I've come to ask you _why_?" The word was part demand, part gasp and part sob.

Ward's mouth pressed into a thin line, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn't, or wouldn't or didn't know how, perhaps. Or maybe he didn't know what it was he wanted to say and he wouldn't risk the wrong words spilling out. Or he was just being the traitor that he always was, and maintaining his silence to keep from compromising whatever was left of what he betrayed them for.

Unfathomable dark eyes slid away from her, his head slowly turned to face the wall across from him again. His lack of _any_ response pissed her off more than anything he could've said would've done, whether it be defense, guilt, or even a smartass comment.

Tears crowded her eyes as she took another step forward–just barely able to remind herself to stay behind the guard. "How could you _do_ this to us, Ward?! We cared about you! We _loved_ you! We trusted you! _Fitz_ trusted you!" The tears escaped, cascading down her cheeks. "You were his hero! He looked up to you! Practically idolized you! He looked up to you as a big brother! How could you _do_ this to _him_?!" Her voice grew louder and the pitch rose with each sentence. "We were a team, friends…_family_! And you _ruined_ it! You broke our hearts! You broke _Fitz's_ heart! He believed in you! He believed that you weren't evil _long_ after the rest of us gave up! And you _put him in a coma_!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jemma saw the guard shift uncomfortably, but she couldn't find it in her to care and ignored him.

Ward's head turned the barest amount in her direction at the mention of Fitz being in a coma, but he still refused to look directly at her.

"Did you _ever_ feel _anything_ for _any_ of us?!" Small, capable hands fisted at her sides as she glared at the side of his head through her watery eyes.

"Us–our team–could've been the _best_ thing you've _ever_ had, and you _threw it away_!" Jemma swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks, sniffed and leveled a clear-eyed glare at him. "Was it _worth_ it?! Worth throwing all of that away for a psychotic megalomaniac?!"

She could see his knuckles were bleached white where his hands were clasped together between his knees. "Well?" The biochemist snapped. "Don't you have _anything_ to say?"

He didn't move a muscle.

Gritting her teeth, she snarled, "Fine." She spun on her heel, stepping toward the door.

"It was supposed to float."

Jemma froze for several heartbeats, her mind unable to process what he'd just said and what it implied. Slowly, she turned back to her former teammate.

Ward wasn't looking at her, he was still just staring across the room, jaw clenched.

"What?!" she finally managed to gasp out incredulously.

His gaze remained locked on the far side of the cell for several more moments before he finally dragged his eyes to her. "The med pods are built to float…it should've floated."

Jemma gaped at him.

"Our altitude wasn't that high, you should've ended up with a few minor injuries, scrapes, bruises, maybe a broken bone. You should've been found floating in the ocean…safe." She could see the muscles playing in his jaw, clenching and releasing over and over–irrelevantly she wondered if he ground his teeth in his sleep–before he continued. "It wasn't supposed to sink, and I don't know why it did. You weren't supposed to get badly hurt. You weren't supposed to die. Fitz wasn't supposed to end up in a coma…"

She hadn't realized she wasn't breathing until suddenly her lungs sucked in gasping breaths, her chest heaving with repressed sobs. "I don't believe you."

Ward met her gaze levelly. "I don't expect you to…but it was supposed to float." He finally looked away again, going back to studying the intricacies of the cracks and lines in the wall.

In the back of her mind, Jemma noted that her mother would be horrified at her gaping for so long. It was several moments before she could force herself to move, finally she turned and headed for the door again.

"And I make a horrible big brother."

Jemma turned halfway back to him, he still hadn't moved.

"Just ask Skye."

Her brow furrowed at the cryptic words, but after a beat she finally exited the cell, the guard right after her, the door clanking and then buzzing shut behind them.

Jemma normally would've gone straight to the med bay, to Fitz's side, upon returning to the base, but she had a mission first.

She found the team, save for May–she briefly wondered where the specialist/pilot was–sitting around the lounge. Jemma strode up to where Skye was sitting cross-legged on a couch, laptop in front of her, and came to a stop before her friend, who looked up inquiringly.

"I want any and all information you can find on Ward, and I don't mean just the S.H.I.E.L.D. files."

From the corner of her eye, the biochemist could see Coulson and Trip's heads whipping around to stare at her.

Skye's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry…_what_?!"

"I know you erased us all," Jemma continued, a slight defiant tilt to her chin, "but I want you to pull up every single _scrap _of information you can find on him."

Gaping, the hacker gave a choked laugh. "Why would you want to do that?!" Her jaw clenched momentarily. "He's-he's not _worth_ it."

Jemma wondered if Skye was aware that there was a hint of strain in her voice, betraying that she didn't really, or at least _fully_, believe that. "I'm not doing this for _him_, I'm doing it for Fitz. Because Fitz always needs to understand why. He's going to want answers," it took every ounce of her will to stop her lip from trembling over the next words, "when he wakes up…" she swept her gaze to include the two men in the room, allowing them all to see the determination in her eyes, "and _I'm _going to give them to him."

Skye searched the biochemist's expression, apparently realizing that Jemma wouldn't be swayed, and pressed her lips together, nodding. "All right... No promises but…I'll see what I can find."

The smile that curved Jemma's mouth conveyed both gratitude and apology, knowing how difficult this would be for her friend–_sister_ if she were honest, that's what Skye had come to mean to her after everything they'd been through together. "Thank you."

She managed a small smile. "You're welcome." Taking a deep, bracing breath, her attention returned to the computer screen. "No time like the present."

Jemma squeezed Skye's shoulder as she passed her on the way out the door, not once looking directly at Coulson or Trip. She wasn't ready to deal with a long drawn out discussion or debate they might want to have about this, needing to get to Fitz. She wanted–_needed_–to be the first face he saw when he woke up, and didn't want to risk not being there by being gone for too long.

The heart monitor beeped steadily, ventilator hissing, the familiar humming of the machines filled the med bay, and the noises would be comforting, but for Fitz's motionless form on the bed. Settling into the chair beside him, Jemma took his slack hand between hers; what she wouldn't give to have him open his eyes and prattle on about some idea for a new invention... "Don't worry," she whispered soothingly, "I'll have any and all answers you could possibly ask for when you wake up. I promise."

_And finding answers  
>Is forgetting all of the questions we called home<br>Passing the graves of the unknown_

~AoS~

So, this story was all born from that moment when Ward says, "It was supposed to float." At first I thought that it was going to be Coulson he said that to, but then I thought maybe it could be Jemma and after talking with SQ1, she said that that was something Ward was more likely to say to Jemma than Coulson, which I realized she was absolutely right…and it grew from there. I hope that you liked it! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!


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